At the Brink of Death
by Tom Averwood
Summary: It is the story of retired criminal Matt Franklin and his journey to find out that person who tries to end his life. A culmination of truths and revelations beyond the threats that happened to him will unfold as he encounters the people in his past and the present life, in his search for answers in the sprawling sun-soaked state of San Andreas,1992 era.
1. Chapter 1 - A Rock and a Hard Place

**Disclaimer: _This is an original Grand Theft Auto fan fiction. All names are entirely fictional and may be purely coincidental to others. However, the locations and references are real. This is purely for fun and storytelling._**

**Author's note: _You can suggest, comment, rate and review. I'll be obliged by that. :) This is just the first story out of the trilogy. Enjoy the read! *Note* I'm resuming the story. I may update as soon as I can._**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: Rock and a Hard Place<strong>

**Prologue:**

The city of Los Santos - the City of Saints, with its neon eyes glimmering, lit up in flames. The gloom has started to fade in as my eyes rolled down to see the sunset whispering me goodbye. Sirens howled noisily against the quaint atmosphere of Richman. The foreboding smell of death and gunpowder mustered around me. Flesh and blood broke down beneath the cold gray smoke from my gun as it dissipated amongst the shadows. Corpses and guns littered all over the floor. The final click of the trigger was ringing back to me, a sign that my whole trial in this mess was over. My thirst for revenge has finally quenched my losing hope but the whole scene was not the end, it was just the beginning. In fact, it started three weeks ago where all the chains linked...


	2. Ch 1, Act 1 - A Bad Neighborhood

**Act 1: A Bad Neighborhood**

Los Santos shone bright as if the saints in heaven had come down upon us. The city skyline, shapes of star-like lights coming from the towering edifices, coated the black backdrop with shimmering splendor. Everything was in order, peace and quiet.

It was midnight.

Most of the people in Los Santos right now were sleeping, with eyes shut left unperturbed. Unlike me, still awake by the soothing music blaring inside of my old muscle car, a Sabre, at an intersection in East Los Santos, waiting for the traffic lights. I gaze eerily, to observe. The place was barren and rather isolated within its brethren districts. The district was been filled with colorful and gaiety characters before, but now, it has become a heaven's den for the poor and the misfits. There were rundown buildings towering around the place, been littered with gang-tagged graffiti, further adding its bad reputation. It seemed that I was walking into a bad neighborhood.

I looked around. I saw no one, not even a single passerby. A lapse of time of viewing this seemingly quiet place, I observed a man. He was standing, wedged in a narrow path between two tenements. He was Hispanic, tall and muscular. He was acting a bit weird and could not just stand still, shifting his bloodshot eyes back and forth. His hands were resting at his pockets, readying something. I wonder, is it maybe a gun, weed, or a ticket to Carcer City just for himself? I pondered completely, lightly stunned. After a while, no suspicions were aroused coming from him. He was doing what he did, routinely. Seeing as nothing, I turned my head away from his sight, impatiently waiting for the signal light to paint my car green. However, as I looked at him back again, he began to jog towards my car, to the door – _my side of the door_. Then, everything went a blur. A split-second motion had kept me frozen and it disabled me from my senses. I was slightly right on my assumptions. He was carrying a gun, preparing to strike at me in cold blood. My eyes struck between the lines, catching a glimpse at him. I soon reacted as he begun to raise his arms against the car window, pointing the gun just a distance from my head. As he was preparing for the kill, my self-defense mechanism kicked in. I quickly grabbed his arms, whipping it upwards, away from me, on my open windowless car door in reflex.

_Clang!_

He had let go of the gun in the process, dropping it. He flinched. I opened the car door fast, slamming him with it since he was just standing right where the door should open. He fell back. As he fell back, I got out of my car as quick as I can and stomped his arm against the grey asphalt, breaking his arm like a matchstick with a crunching noise to boot. He cried in agony. I reached for the gun fast, aiming at him before he could strike back.

_Bang!_

The whimper stopped, drowning it with a shot piercing through his skin. It woke the neighborhood up consequently, and in some sense, I knew it was a bad idea. Residents would follow the shot through here and call the police in an instant. Without a second glance, I started to bolt away before I could catch any heat. However, a black Rumpo suddenly appeared out of nowhere and screeched through the once-quiet street, approaching me fiercely like a raging bull.

I thought to myself, "Damn it, I should really fucking lose them".

By pure chance, the district was full of alleyways. It could stop it, giving me time to escape along with my remaining life and fate. I ran like there was no tomorrow as the van was chasing me in a deadly game of tag. The wheels began to increase its roar as my destination, a narrow alleyway, was waiting for me straight ahead. In a stroke of luck, I was been given another chance to live, happy to see the van came to a full stop and collided against two walls, unable to fit inside the alleyway. But luck doesn't go in its own way. I stopped for a bit to have a quick pant and within the span of a second, I saw another Rumpo looking at me. I realized by now, the alleyway I ran through was only narrow from where I had ran to and it just open up into a wide alleyway reaching at the far end, right where the van stood now, who was looking at me straight in the eye. It was a Mexican showdown between a moving and unstoppable foe and me. My gun could not stop this beast. It was an obvious sign from hell that my days living here was over. In a point of view, the van was hungry for a fresh roadkill its appetite could not wait. With its engine all revved up and geared for, I waited for it to drive through, longing for the right opportunity.

_._

_.._

_…_

And it was off. The van was leading, with its headlights as its spear, excitingly wanting to impale me with its imaginary skew. The van lights covered the night sky view with its deadly luminescence as it sped towards me. In a nick of time, I rolled myself out of the van's path, which had just swerved right, missing me barely and crashed into the brick wall with loud ruckus and debris. I stood up to recover and saw the aftermath. The van lied there stuck between the walls, mangled, and the driver was been knocked out cold with his bloody head on the steering wheel, possibly from blunt force trauma. It was the end of round one. Soon, round two suddenly followed.

The bastards really do not know when to give up. My guess is that they wanted that nice payroll from that someone who wants me dead. I knew some bad things would come up and my gift of intuition would be the proof of that. They were bringing a ruckus in the area, uncertain to their inevitable doom. They did not know whom they were messing with... or probably they do.

As I said, round two had arrived. Four gunmen, who got out of the black van that chased on the streets me earlier, greeted me with much gusto. They were holding Desert Eagles and nothing else. They had merely outgunned and outnumbered me.

"I think I could stop them," I thought.

If it was really my time to die, I should have accepted the fate but for now, I need to survive. I need to look for answers from this undoing. A few enemies could not bite me through this night, maybe a tot or two is better but the police would only lead these murders as a harrowing case of a local gang fight or a turf war, like any police reports would do in Los Santos. I am just nobody in this part of town. I am playing safe in this city, coming along nicely against the rhymes of dust, guts, and empty bullets, the true symbols of the underbelly of paradise.

They were fast approaching as I ducked to a nearby chest-high cover and waited. They were closing in from the front, some flanking, and begun to shoot at me aimlessly. The barrage of bullets stopped. A right moment, I popped up from my cover and capped three of them, who were attempting to flank me from the sides. I looked up from my cover and saw the last one target scurrying away through the groaning night, frightened. I was anticipating to get a final kill coming from him but I gave him a chance to live for now, maybe repent for his sins by giving everyone the message by not to mess with me.

I stood up and looked upon from the scene. It was awful but it was not regretful. They deserve to die. I do not forgive that easily if there is someone trying to kill me in this dead of night. I need no mercy from them. Neither this shooting could answer my questions but something on their necks and pockets would. The dogtags and tattoos gave me a sign – the Lucky 7's, or in gangland terms, the Luckies. As far as I can remember, they were just a minor ill-reputed gang residing in the former Vagos territories ever since the Groves rose to power. All they wanted from the world was to have a fame of a lifetime, rise up as a real gang, but people do not really care about their goals or them. They were just a snippet article in a late edition newspaper. I raised a thought from their actions as I fled through the city streets behind me.


	3. Ch 1, Act 2 - Points of Interest

**Act 2: Points of Interest**

As I tread into the night, I forgot that I left my car in the crime scene. Huh...how clumsy am I. Well, so much for doing a work by not giving a hint for the police to think I am not involved. All I did was in vain. Nevertheless, the problem still linger. Gunshots were still ringing inside my head. That event had formed a faint picture in my mind. However, despite the troubles I had walked earlier, I finally had found a lead – the Luckies. My unlucky assailants. How ironic. I wanted to live and experience the good life, retire being as a criminal but they only attracted it back, who was just packing up and leaving town. You know how it is. I had to pick my choice.

Now, I was walking towards my apartment in Las Colinas. The wind blew through the strands of my messy hairstyle, gone was my suave hair. The air picked up the mute sirens coming from East Los Santos, which were just several blocks away within my distance. The noises muffled through and faded away after a couple of minutes. I picked up the phone from my pocket, calm and cool, and called my old friend, Sonny Feldspar, of my situation in East Los Santos. The phone buzzed through my ear until Sonny brought his voice to me.

"Shit Matt, why are you calling me? It's the middle of the night you know", that cheeky character reasoned.

"Well, there's something bad happened right now", I answered laid back.

"What's that then?" he answered.

"Some gangsters named Luckies tried to fucking kill me.", I replied.

Sonny was a bit shocked and said to me, "Whoa. The fuck happened? Well, it was been a bit expected coming from you. It seems some of your 'close friends' never really forgiven and forgotten you huh?"

He added, "That is some serious shit. Calm down and lay low for a while," He hung up after he said that advice.

Coming from him in my point of view, this was been expected. He really cared for the one he loved, maybe except a backstabbing bastard. He can be violent. Indescribably violent. Beware of the nice ones indeed.

I arrived at my cheap apartment uphill, filled with stacked garbage in their bins, year-old graffiti around the corners that could intimidate the slums all day and all night, and the old rusty brown paint ready to depreciate and stepped on by weary shoes that had touched the molten core of the city. At the end at the middle of the T-bone hallway was my room: Room 310. A room that suited my condition. The door croaked as I opened it. The dusty blinds and filtered city lights were gleaming through and across my room. The room was damp, roach-infested and heaved with my filth, assorted junk, and dry sticky excess of wine trailing down my leather couch. I hung my overcoat behind my door and closed it shut. I threw the pistol onto the sleek glass surface of my coffee table where it landed onto the center with a screeching halt. I soon grabbed the remote control at the far end of my couch and went to check the latest events on the TV. It was my own entertainment and my points of interest. It was the placeholder of the outdoors, injecting mindless people with lies, deceit, and unwanted attention. I am no exception.

I was changing channels on and off for half an hour trying to pass the boredom. Several channels had past, I checked the time in my VCR. It was 12 am approximately. I looked back at the screen and caught a glimpse of the breaking news speeding horizontally across the screen.

"_In Weazel News:_

_Breaking News: Five men were been found dead and one in critical condition after a presumed gang fight happened in East Los Santos. The victims were the Lucky 7's, a minor gang in the Hispanic districts of Los Santos. Four of them died on the spot in an alleyway while the other man was been found dead near a car belonging to a Matthew D. Franklin. His abandoned car was found next to the victim and the police presumed he was the suspect…_" Here goes my 5 seconds of fame going down the drain. So much for a perfect life. A sidebar with an image of a mustachioed fat police officer appeared with the name LSPD Inspector Dave Macrosky inside the moving bar. I smirked with cockiness.

"_…You see Matthew Franklin was and is a criminal ten years ago. It is questionable as to how did he got involved. Matthew accounted for seven charges of armed robbery, uncountable charges for murder, and two cases of grand theft auto. So likely he is the main suspect in this crime scene."_

I quickly turned the TV off, hoping that I would never hear and see that news again. As I stood up by the sofa...

_BLAAM!_

What the?! A sound of a deafening blast had punched through my door. Smoke and voices of the would-be assailants uplifted the ambiance and bullets started to fly across as the thick maple door was shattered beyond recognition. I hastily grabbed my pistol and slid to my couch for cover. The voices deemed too familiar. The Luckies had strike again, wanting me dead onto their feet. They never seemed to catch a break! I had to make a quick shot since I have little ammo left and I need to prevent my own cause of death. I had to strike back hard, teaching them a lesson but somehow, they had outnumbered me again. Five men were standing beside the damaged door, with two guarding its sides. They were checking to see if I am alive, yet. Eyes strolled through my things – the broken television, which was been shot, broken picture frames, shot up walls, the mess, you name it. It does not matter. They would be dead by now anyways. I followed my instincts and surprised them with a shot, hitting the man standing in the middle of the doorway in the throat. The body plunged back, dropping heavy, making a sickening gargling noise as he was reaching for his throat until he finally accepted fate. The gangsters jumped in horror as their comrade fell down onto my dirty welcome mat.

"One down and four to go." I said to myself.

They could not stop shouting as if some wild monkeys were been set loose at the zoo. They were annoying me so I had to peek, caught a view of two men out in the open. It was the right opportunity.

_Bang!_

_Bang!_

The two dropped dead and another two left for the picking. The bullet holes in my room have been justified. They could not run away from me this time! By the rule of tempting fate, they did run away in panic, maybe calling back up for sure. I have no time to check and loot the dead so I bolted out and escape. Reinforcements indeed have arrived. These were the two gangsters that retreated before and another two new friends that needed some greeting from my gun and me. The post-break was over. The show had to go on. The Luckies pushed forward, planning to flush me out. I rose up. I ran towards a pillar connecting by the wall, sticking out and shot one of their friends in the arm, injuring him at the slightest as I finally went into cover. Yet for the record, they grazed me as I ran for safety, on the left shoulder. The pain was grueling yet bearable for my body to dawdle. Painkillers would help me here but unfortunately, I do not have any nor found. I do not have the time to go back from where I started, I had to move fast and ignore the wincing pain. I shoot back and went back to cover yet they were still pushing in close. I had to find a way to hinder their movements just for one second. The way I see it, they were dancing in the midnight folly.

I wanted a quick solution.

Where? What?

...

I found it! The gas pipeline above them.

I shot the pipeline and it burst into fire, swallowing up what it had touched. The gangsters burned up inside the wall of flames, devouring them slowly as the fire melted through their crisp sinews until they were toast. The rotten smell of smoke from their bodies alerted the fire sprinklers that were drooping above the ceiling. Water sprouted from the nozzles, raining down onto the burnt carcass that was the Luckies. I peeked again and checked out to see if there were more of them but as I found out, there were none. It was just some burnt bodies and an injured guy who had managed to crawl away from the fiery sudden death. I went to check on him, who was crawling like a crippled snail, with blood similar to that of a horror film smearing against the floor. He was groaning in pain. He looked through the eye of my gun and begged me to kill him. Therefore, I did, just to put him out of his misery with a quick undeterred shot. I expressed no regrets thereafter and thought nothing but the desperation to get out of this hell. It was my time to collect some ammo from my enemies and the coast was clear. I'm ready for anything now as I approached the sole fire exit in this building.


	4. Ch 1, Act 3 - Bad Misnomer

**Act 3: Bad Misnomer**

I was at the clutch on the fire exit doorknob. I shook the doorknob violently and realized that it was been locked and barricaded from behind. I had to break through to the other side, even it meant I have to barge in and disturb any clueless neighbors. Behind me was a mixture of lukewarm temperature and charred remains, still wet from the upbringing. No one was brave enough to check the ruckus out as if everybody was a ghost. Yet, I have to see their cadavers first. No one really got out or maybe they were been warned before the invasion kicked in. Seems logical I guess. There were no plans, just a handful of ideas that could save me here. I was at the middle of the T-bone hallway and I had to go at the left side since it was the only ideal route found. The windows were been barred with planks, long barred ever since I arrived here. Therefore, it concluded that going through the windows was worthless so with no other options left, I had to go to every door trying to find a way until I could reach the end.

All of the rooms I attempted to force into was no good and the only room left in the hallway to budge in was room 301. I prayed to myself that this should be my last chance. It did and the door opened as I sigh in relief. As the door-stopper caught the door, darkness and emptiness greeted me with their mysterious answers buried through the spaces slathering inside the room. I flickered the light switch right next to the door and a light flashed in an epileptic manner, showing me hints of what would I gaze upon. The lights blinked at me thrice before coming to a bright illumination. There I look, as if a tornado blazed through the whole area, were the clothes and the furniture toppled down as well as a man lying within his pile of crumpled yet freshly ironed clothes, as seen with the pressing iron, still hot, and the iron stand standing amidst the calamity. I approached the body and checked his pulse. There was not any and there were rope marks pressed around his neck. He was dead. I left the body where it should be, approached, and opened the window not far from him with ease. It was easy since someone had opened it prior. The splinters and the crowbar sitting at the steel mesh floor of the fire escape gave me that hard evidence. I was at the outside world again on a fire escape, with decent and mild atmosphere, and the scents of sulfur and carbon residues giving me a preview of the next scene. The clamor of my steps pounding the metal staircase gave me a crescendo, like a horde of zombies trying to maul me with their hunger for lead and flesh. My gun laid infused into my hands as if it was a part of my body trying to control me. The next floor below was my road to a next exchange of love letters between two rival lovers. I finally climbed down and entered through the adjacent window. Based from the pieces I found in room 301 above, the glass window was been also smashed, with the missing pieces of the puzzle lost down beneath my soles and onto the dirt and mud. The layout was the same neither did the disarray. The same procedure was been put down with the unlucky man, lying lifeless at the corner of his hearth. I saw a rope line, velvet I presume, missing with a length.

I went out to proceed onto my next encounter, which was waiting for me patiently around the bend. I went through the intersecting hallway and immediately hugged the wall for cover after I saw two Luckies arguing. They were crouching and handling a box-like contraption. It was a bomb. Thinking, if I crash their party, then it would be a blast but just for the good measure, I wanted to overhear their conversations first.

"The blue wire must be connected at the right outlet you foo'!" A man wearing a jersey with 67 imprinted on the chest and blue jeans, instructing his blue-capped friend.

"So, you're better at this?" he looked to him as he cranked the pliers into the tangled web of colorful snakes.

"C'mon, yo! Maybe if we attach the red wire through the right and the blue wire at the left…" the jersey-wearing man conversed as he pulled a few while his friend was looking at him. "…and then, attach the black wire here. Pull the first switch."

"Okay sure." The blue-capped man said in agreement. They turned the switch on but nothing happened.

"Well, that won't end well." I sighed.

_BOOM!_

In an instant, a cringing sound echoed through the floor, ear splitting and loud, like a clap of a powerful thunderstorm had rocked the building inside. The explosion came from where the two idiots were standing. They ricocheted like a rag-doll. The blast had sent their body onto the edges of broken walls and rubble. Ah, their names were such a bad misnomer. They were making themselves look like imbeciles, killed by their own actions rather than to live. It was a pity for them to name themselves as the Luckies. Well, at least on the bright side, they had made a shortcut for me. Bits of cement and cinder blocks were raining down in the fervid stretch of flames and traces of nitroglycerin lit the air up like a Christmas tree. When the coast was clear, and the rumbling stopped, I stood up and checked. There was a massive hole propped up the floorboards of the tenements. The floor broke down on to the lower floors, blocking a room with it. The hole was my ticket to freedom so I had to use the moment fate had given me. The hole was big enough for a four-car sedan to pass through it. I dropped in and looked at the new blueprint of the hall. Aside from the rubble, the floor tiles was been ripped by the shock wave of the explosion and a fire exit door opened ajar albeit charred. As I walked through the a-la action movie destruction, the fire truck sirens and the murmur of people came out from the obscurity. Afterwards, there were gunshots.

I need to move fast.

_"Vamos de esta manera, sé que él está aquí!" _a Spanish dialogue boxed the narrow staircases, muffled.

I do not understand what they were saying and I do not have the intentions to do so but I knew they were coming in fast. If it meant something, I need to prepare for the worst. I looked through the slits in the middle of the staircase, there, at the ground floor, were their heads bobbing in from the upward spiral. I called my shots through one of their companions in the head, knocking him down. They noticed me and pointed their guns towards my direction as they approached the stairs cautiously. They were carrying shotguns, pump-actions to be exact. Judging from their firepower and the tight closure, killing them would be difficult. However, I have to prove it. One by one, they were occupying the steps going through me. In my instincts, I had to cover back. They were coming in slow, a change of pace unlike what they did before I rang a shot. As they approached within the step of the floor, I gave them the element of surprise. I successfully shot one of them, who had gone tumbling down the stairwell. His body managed to pin his other still alive members, who were now been incapacitated by the body. I soon took them out before they could get up and reach the trigger. I separated myself against the divider, hopped out of the staircase, and headed for the exit. It seemed the show had not reached the finale; I thought I was home free but unfortunately, fifteen men were waiting for me outside in the descending darkness, waving their guns. The rolling minute hills were been filled with a lifeless and disgusting theme. The bodies of my neighbors, coveted by the golden shower of moonlight, stood against their embodiment. They noticed me and rattled the streets with more gunfire. I took action and pressed myself against the stout concrete barrier adjacent to the dirty gray guard railings on the building grounds. They were flanking me in any way possible at well-placed defense like barriers and cars. I was completely overpowered but luckily, coincidence gave in as the police arrived. As they heard the sirens and cruisers fast approaching, they ran off like rats. The men in blue got off and attempted to apprehend and shoot the ruffians with extreme force. They failed to capture them all in the end. With the police occupying the scene, I had to walk again into the dead of the night.

The darkness despite the cold air pressed against my naked face, became a hot spot for terror and grimace looking for victims to devour. I was been caught in their bites, turned into one of them. The reason for this, I need to seek backup. Sonny Feldspar, the man of patience with a history of bad temper. He was residing peacefully in his home in Idlewood, possibly readying for a brawl that could turn one way or another. The district is only few kilometers away, just a giant foot's length but first, I have to make a detour – Jefferson Motel.


	5. Ch 1, Act 4 - Too Stubborn to Die

**Act 4: Too Stubborn to Die**

I was walking towards the decrepit, abandoned, but newly painted motel. The signpost was flickering overhead, faint buzzing heavy in the air. The irate of my fingers kissed the trigger lightly, deviating my anger and irritation away from my head. The door opened with a ding caused by a bell hung above the doorway. Absence of neither commotion nor palavers ran ahead of me at the starting line. My gun was on the brink of a breakdown, ready to cry on my shoulders. I am anticipating for a showdown.

I crouched and went on the upper hallway cautiously, canvassing etches of the rooms, looking for any ambushes lurking.

"That_idiota_is too stubborn to die. _Quiero poner una bala en la cabeza y dejó que sus cerebros nadar en la acera_. " A voice oscillated the hallway, at the next one. There were words I could not interpret but I know what he meant.

"Don't worry _ese_. He'll dead by morning", another man in a raspy tune entered the dialogues.

I immediately sought cover from the first room I have been to, by the door, and peeked out to see who it was. I saw their attires, two of them, one wearing a black wife-beater and camo cargo pants brandishing an Ingram and a man in olive drabs, jersey, and blue jogging pants, holding a sawed-off shotgun. They were walking steadily and unaware, lambasting the wooden floorboards with their footsteps.

"That show in Weazel is great. Too bad in our country, our shows are a piss," the man with an Ingram talked.

"I know Carlito. Few weeks and now you're living with us in the American Dream.", the man with the shotgun complimented.

"Shut up. I just got here in the bootleg, with an oxygen tank and a pudding."

"I wish I could laugh at you", the man replied sharply.

"Fuck you!"

"You know how to handle a gun right?"

"Who do you think I am? 12?"

"Do you know the internet?"

"Internet?" Carlito dumbfounded by the question.

"Sorry for the interruption guys!" I boastfully taunted.

I leapt out and fired two shots at them. Outburst of the shots suddenly darted round the corridors. They lay dead as the bullets impaled through them with extreme prejudice. I am foolish for what I did. I had accidentally woken up the sleeping demons. More of them, tens or dozens, appeared in my perspective, welding Ingrams and sawed-off shotguns. I picked up the Ingram dropped by my new friend Carlito, who was now permanently sleeping beside his friend whose name I do not take account of. I fired off with a couple of shots, hitting a running hoodlum in the chest. Four men advanced and ducked behind the doorway, two on the left, and two on the right, separated. I went for the nearest target and killed the one on the near left. I came back from my hiding and reloaded. I moved on to the next target and successfully killing him while still avoiding their shots. I sneakily move in to the next cover and countered back, hitting two in the head. As I approached the next hallway, five gunmen attempted to block the path, which means I had to fight them in this relentless chaos. The remaining enemy on the farthest right retreated into the group.

The corridor received thirty seconds of intense torrent of lead pouring down on to me as if there was a wild storm coming. The clamor came to a break and opportunity knocked. I started to fight off and managed to kill one of them. Just as I killed two more, they fell back so I went through and stave off more in the next corridor. I picked up more ammunition for my Ingram and pistol, ignoring the painful jab from my pistol hanging in my hip holster. I punched myself into the rumble, hiding behind a metallic laundry cart, lying idle down the path. The group launched a phase attack against me but I wiped half of them, causing them to retreat into the rooftops. I slowly rushed towards the next cover and leaned for a good vantage point. I saw a hoodlum below me, the lower floor, pointing and shooting without a break. I waited for a right time to attack. He reloaded and there I took my time, hitting him square in the face. Just for the good measure, I shot him in the neck making sure he stays dead. I went to the body and examine. After a quick search, I found a shredded card with the name Hector on the print. Hector? Who is this guy? I want to know him and I think this is all I needed to know here - just a measly torn card.

Deemed too valuable, I put the torn card into my wallet and went off to where I left.

It has been a long and sleepless night, the black paint in the sky started to fade away revealing a dark blue hue encompassing the city. I am still not tired and so were they. I finally reached the motel rooftops, with installations and fans growing out of the concrete exterior. The group fanned out and hid themselves behind the overgrowth. I felt I was walking in a maze filled with a provocative feeling on its poisonous walls. I need to find a way out quick. There, I saw an escape at the back end but first, I need to eliminate my obstructions. I attacked the nearest one, few feet away, hiding in one the insulators. I exchanged my pistol for the Ingram, keeping the pistol back into its holster. I shot his leg in one of the gaps, incapacitating him. Before he could get up, I shot him in three times. With bullets dancing around me, I had to crouch-walk all the way to the next one. He was unaware of my current position, still shooting from where I stood. I was like a ninja, disappearing and appearing into the unknown, killing them swiftly and softly. I planned my actions and preceded to blind-fire him. He dropped dead right in front of me in a swift second. I stood up and ran as fast as I could and slid through the low wall. I missed the blazing death points by an inch, almost felt their intensity burning. A couple of rounds shot and rang. I shot them in their heads. With only three people left, this would be a piece of cake. Two were hiding on the same wall and another hiding behind the vent near the fire escape. Flushing them out is necessary.

I vaulted over, jumped onto the next roof, and quickly hid behind some planks of wood waist-deep in height. I hastily shoot the two, almost hitting the other one. I reloaded quick and responded to him fast with deep exclamation marks into his body. The last one got out of his cover from the vent and attempted to run away but I stopped him with a round on the back. He was the last enemy. I have no one left to fight here.

The scuffle was been done. I was in pain, sprained, bruised, and grazed. They were killing to see me. Yet, the feelings were mutual. Despite the tremendous amount of time I wasted in this odyssey, I have no moment to lose. I needed to go to Sonny's place.

Somewhere beyond this night, I have been gone to Idlewood.


	6. Ch 1, Act 5 - The Coldhearted Los Santos

**Act 5: The Coldhearted Los Santos**

After a brief hour of walking, I arrived at his home's foot. His place was yellow bright, glowing harmoniously together with the city. His homestead was a comfort despite being right where all the gang activities had resided in their own homes. A history of gang wars, tagging, and police brutality have been long the old residents in Idlewood. Far older than the residents no doubt. Indigo tint drenched the coldhearted Los Santos. Everything I could see was all blackish-blue, with a thin dash of yellow across the horizon. Few cars roamed the two streets facing his home. One street was at the direction going to the Jefferson and the other was leading to an intersection going to the freeway and Ganton. The slight beat of the city was almost to nothing as if they were still coming to get me. I had to find shelter and help. Sonny was there, seen from his shadows cast out by the indoor lighting. His emotions might bring me to a steadfast. I went inside and saw him talking on the phone.

"Yeah, yeah. Sure." He replied towards the mysterious caller.

"Okay, I'm on it." He put the phone with a click. He seemed so happy and miserable, maybe both at the same time. "Matthew!" he called.

"Hey Sonny, I need to talk to you." I answered in a collected and nonchalant manner.

"Is it all about this incident you called me earlier?" he asked.

"Yeah. You see, things got out of hand." I replied.

"Well? I know you are a strong man. Maybe you can fight this out. We already did this like I don't know...years ago." He answered, stood up and walking back and forth like a sharp-dressed man.

"That's the problem." I slid my pistol back into my holster and continued on, "This Luckies kept trying to kill me. My place got blown apart and I don't have a place to stay." I reasoned out.

Sonny grinned and chuckled lightly, "Hey, you could stay here. Have a chitchat, talk about problems, you know that stuff…"

"Collect call or something, get something worthwhile." He yawned and sat down at the wooden dining chair, sitting backwards, facing at me. "Stay for a bit and maybe you could do something for me."

"Ugh." I huffed with a sigh.

"It's your give and take decision again." I complained jokingly.

He laughed and said, "Oh c'mon. At least it's not that…time you know…that…" and ended with a whistle.

"Okay. Not that." I defended myself.

"How about I'll make you some breakfast?" He asked me. I was contented and agreed.

"I'll be in the kitchen." He told me to hold back. I kept my promise.

While he went into his kitchen, I had a million of thoughts protruding out of my skull. I was just standing by the window, looking at the outside world. The graze in my shoulder was painful and hard to ignore. Simplicity was out of Sonny's window.

The Idlewood alfresco was rising, people of sorts started to wake up from their beautiful evening. Dew sprung up on time, starting to mask my glassy visions with its watery fondue, a strange premonition that woke me up from this pale dawn. My thoughts were been filled with unexplained mysteries. Who was Hector? Who wanted me dead? What do they want from me?

The more I wonder, the chance that I could reach the dead-end of it. I tend to over-think things. I need to control myself. I need some vacation, like a relaxing break in this comfortable armchair since all I did was standing up. I had to sit down just to even it out.

"Matt! Food's ready!" Sonny shouted after a few minutes, across the room, with the clashing of plates and utensils almost drowning out his voice. I got up from the chair and went into the kitchen. Sonny was there, with the food on the table. Pea soup, fresh from the pot, and rice. Sonny was standing beside the table, watching me sit down.

He started to talk, "Anything you want to add?" he questioned.

I shrugged with the sublimation of uncertainty and guess. "I don't know…"

"…maybe champagne would do." I replied.

He was in his cheerful smudgy smile on his face as if it had been permanent.

"Fine, have it your way." Sonny said before he grabbed some cigarette. The aroma of the luscious meal delighted my nose, tickling me inside. I started eating even though I was not hungry yet. We were just sitting there, doing the same old routine way back then. Quiescence took part of our pandemonium. The turbulent shadows of the antique ceiling fan projected its dark motion around the surroundings. It was a peaceful break.

In spite of all the silence, it did not last long. Its defiance came out by a loud shrill outside. A load of teal low riders, Tornados, congested the wide yet void street. Sonny and I leapt up and checked out the fuss. "Senor Matt! Today is your last day. You're gonna die, asshole!" a man with a goatee, black vest and ripped jeans, carrying company, yelled at us.

"Shit. That's Rey de Agostos." Sonny described, as we peeked out of the window.

"How did you know?" I asked Sonny.

"Long story." He chanted.

"They'll never make this a bit less easy for us, huh?" I remarked.

They started to proceed to break while Rey was leaning on his custom-made Savanna, giving orders to his cronies. Sonny gave me a Desert Eagle while he handled his Combat Shotgun, which is right above of the bookshelf near the window. The Luckies burst in with SMGs and high-powered pistols armed to the teeth. Sonny and I concealed ourselves behind the kitchen doorway. We strode and crept up carefully in the living room, avoiding their sights. The dawn was wild, unwrapping all the actions in one go.

"Shh…we need to take them out in one shot." Sonny whispered at me.

He was planning to take the first two then the other three by the entrance. He was preparing to start the simple operation, his gun silently clicking. He nodded at me and then we proceed to reveal ourselves from them. Two outcries rang followed by two death plunges emanating thereafter. They retreated to the starting place as we followed them. Sonny took the lead. He successfully killed one of them before hiding at a ledge in his front yard. I followed and took the other side of the ledge. Out there, swarms of Luckies have crowded the street packed with Tornados and Savannas piling them behind and inside of the vehicles. Rey was nowhere to been found. I need to find him and talk him out the reason with the attempts, the clues, or everything found on his hitlist.

"Matt! Fuck. There's too many of them. We need to take them out! Shoot the motherfucking gas tanks!" Sonny yelled out.

He was right though. The gas tanks were just facing right at us, contemplating destruction for the Luckies. Sonny cocked his shotgun and fired, triggering the first explosion as if a volcano has erupted.

"Matt! Go!" directing me to fire the next one.

I did though manage to land a couple shots to some of the Luckies before ending it up with a huge explosive chain reaction. After a few seconds, all was clear. Burnt car frameworks and casualties piled up the road. It woke the entire neighborhood. A foreclosure spiked between my breaths, as I pitied from what I saw today. A deadly terrain of flames and demise intervened in our way, Sonny whisked off as if nothing happened. His pursuit was unknown but he knew that I needed Rey. On his line of view, Sonny spotted a Washington.

"Look there's a car! Quick, I saw Rey speeding away." He pointed his finger at it.

I was standing as he smashed the glass window and opened the door through the other side of it. I went in and replaced my Desert Eagle with my old trusty pistol. The car sprang to life as Sonny pumped his feet onto the pedal. The car began to move and screeched away. We saw Rey's car, with passengers taking up the seats at the back. They exposed themselves and fired out of their car. Rey was heading to El Corona, the Varrios Los Aztecas country. We evaded their first round of gunfire and began to chase them until they could crash off the road, hopefully and thus, a car chase has begun.


	7. Ch 1, Act 6 - Urban Intervention

**Act 6: Urban Intervention**

The sun was on the fritz, upset from our urban intervention. It was the brink of day. Humidity consumed the previous empty cold night. Honking of cars, people chattering, and the trains blazing along the rails beset the sun-soaked metropolis. Fizzy orange smog started to appear above the skylines stretching across the background. Golden rust poured beyond the clouds, silently floating unconcerned and aloof. Below, two cars were dangerously speeding fast along at the crisscross streets of El Corona and its adjacent districts.

We zipped through their dangerous game, Sonny on the wheels, and Rey and his cronies leading us the way. I was the riding shotgun. Rey had his own, two of them, welding TEC-9s. Rey was driving erratically, avoiding crashes that could lead to his inevitable end. His boys were managing this shootout, pumping jacks and sticks towards our fragile Washington. Sonny evaded most of the gunfire, about three or four bullet holes were been made so far. I wanted to shoot them but I needed the right moment so I had to watch the set piece come together. Friction sparked between theirs and ours. Sonny rolled down the roaring streets with caution whilst the leading car tailgated and bumped every car facing opposite of them. Obstacles we were facing were unpredictable traffic and hailing gunfire, which we need to avoid almost and always. Rey then shied away from traffic, turned towards the train tracks, sharply turning right through Ganton, the Grove country. Sonny followed but he headed through another route. He drifted down the next intersection and within seconds, successfully kept up with Rey.

"Come and get closer Rey." Sonny remarked as he changed gears and kept this foot at the accelerator.

Rey was on the fly, turning towards the cul-de-sac and heading through a narrow alley between an old wooden brown house and a cement fenced abode housing a Picador. Rey exited the alley and proceeded to pass through the Los Santos Aqueduct. Sonny jumped off the bridge and onto the Los Santos aqueduct, following back.

"Come and get me!" Rey taunted us beneath the soles of Los Santos.

After a brief moment, his cronies stopped firing at us and carried out a new game for us – Satchel Charges. Oh, they want a new challenge for us to achieve, how condescending am I. The rule of the game was straightforward: Avoid the satchel charges on the ground or its game over. There were neither twists nor cheats, just get out of the way. Sonny had our chance right in his hands. I had to strike through. The aqueduct was perfect for this since there were no people and cars. Followed suit, they dropped the first charge. Sonny veered out from the bomb as it exploded on time. I came out of the car again soon as we escape the blast and aimed at the tires. However, they dropped another satchel charge. Unfortunately, Sonny slipped through the on-ramp, though managed to miss the bomb again, but somehow I missed my shot.

Bad news had struck us again. By the time we pass the Commerce aqueduct bridge below, more of his men showed up, joining in. They were riding motorcycles, PCJ-600s, with the riders holding pistols and UZ-Is. I prioritized at the incoming attackers while Sonny focused in following Rey. I aimed for their tires, all exposed and easy to shoot. However, there was this "disadvantage", Sonny had kept the car out of his usual control, as a result, wobbly. I had to accept this but my aiming would seem to be the casualty. I had to understand the sacrifice so I had to go for an alternative and that is to divert myself away from the targeted car and take the incoming attackers out one by one instead. Despite the poor aiming, I had managed to hit two of them, watched as they rolled out onto the wet slate. This did not stop long enough though. More of them appeared once I took out the first wave. Bad news so far, Rey's friends had not stopped dropping charges but the good news is that two clueless attackers, recent of course, were been caught within the blast.

All of a sudden, a Packer came out of nowhere, crashing straight towards us. Four motorcyclists were guarding the Packer, also fiercely charging at us. Ignoring the convoy, I concentrated back at my attackers, hastily shooting some of them, hitting three by luck. We soon pass through a tunnel with haste and taut. Seven remained and they were still coming straight towards us. Three of them were about few meters apart. The Packer was running far behind, slow as if it could not cope up with the rush and go. The mayhem rung through the long and deep tunnel. Shootouts meandered through the silence and explosions ripped through the slate and the attackers. I was not finished from the fight. I was still battling with the motorcyclists. Rey's men dropped almost of their charges. It was an unfair battle but a battle nonetheless. Sonny was busy evading them while I am been occupied in taking out the nearest attackers and then the next wave. My pistol was running out of ammo yet there were enemies that needed a handful to waste at. I was hoping for the charges to comply with me, blowing them up with resourcefulness and patience. Yet, it destroyed only about a half of the attackers. Fortunately, the pillars were also their annoyance, hitting them could incapacitate the riders. After a couple of minutes along with their capability to hit those pillars with relative ease, it reduced their portion to just four attackers. I finalized by putting an end for the last four and hid back in the car to reload.

"Matt! Shoot the Packer!" Sonny's voice echoed.

The attackers were dead and the tunnel was clear with only the Packer, now near, and its guards remained. The Packer's body, I am sure of, was like an armor, absorbing bullets as if its panel were made of titanium. On the other hand, the windshield was not. It was rather a bit "exposed". The driver was clear through my eyes. He was emotionless, wearing a trucker's hat, sleeveless plaid shirt. I focused on killing him. I was on a gamble, the chances for the hit was slim. I was at three bullets short so I had to change to Desert Eagle-mode. There were been still more left yet it was hard for a proper response due to its recoil. I had to be careful in not letting go or I would become a splatter-bug on the pavement. The momentum was short yet strong, capable for the gun to take them out long enough to end the chase.

While bullets zipped through us, I armed myself with my Desert Eagle and fired at the front guard, taking out his first offensive. Then, I struck the second rider on the left side. I coupled off more shots towards the remaining riders thus enabling me to kill the ramp truck driver without interference. It seemed too hard to aim at the small glassy slit. I had to apply optimism here but to no avail. The rough and jagged floor of the aqueduct along with Sonny's unprofessional driving had made my aim worse. I could try some couple of hits but as I tried it, it only hit the hood and made a crack on the windshield, worsening the driver's and my line of view towards him. I fired two shots. The result was that only one bullet had hit the windshield, completely breaking it apart. I had to reload then back to the same routine. I thrust myself on to the side at the edge of the car window a little bit to get a good view of the Packer. I raised my Desert Eagle and shot the vehicle again. This time, it had hit the driver. He was been shot straight into his face and was killed instantly, slumped on the wheel with the appropriate lead-foot dead-foot. The Packer sheered through the left and began to slide over. The Packer went through three meters before it halted. The truck blew light grey smoke coming from the steaming hot engine as it finished sliding down. The impact was unbelievable. The remains of the beast began to disappear as the chase goes on. After a moment, the truck had disappeared from the outline. The zooming speed and the squealing of tires caught me back from my attention span.

"What? They're still alive?" Rey expressed disbelief.

Sonny laughed and said, "Look at them. What a shame. Matt c'mon! Shoot the tires."

I followed Sonny's order.

Finally, Rey was not on his unnerved and wracked driving anymore. It was at my ease after several minutes of running and gunning. I shot both back tires, spinning Rey's Savanna out of control. They were in a dizzying state but had expected an outcome, Rey's car rolled over unexpectedly. Sonny stopped the car and the rollover stopped simultaneously. The Savanna turned upside down, with Rey's boys dead inside and Rey coming out of the car all bloodied, and injured. He had escaped through the maintenance area. Both Sonny and I followed him, with our guns prepped up and ready.


	8. Ch 1, Act 7 - Marked for Death

**Act 7: Marked for Death**

We left the car running and immediately went inside.

"Get ready, this doesn't look good", Sonny expressed.

He felt an unusual presence around the vicinity. The wide maintenance was gloom, filled with steam, industrial fans, the pipelines, and among other things that were been usually left and found below underground, enveloping us with suspicion and vigilance. Rats and critters, whether big or small, lived the lurid spaces of the maintenance area. Oil slicks and the musky smell of rotten residues and chemical compounds filmed the unsightly confinement. Yet, we were determined against the unimportant impediments. Sonny was silent and prepared, following the trails of blood on the floor. I was just following him wherever he goes, maybe leading me to the answers I am seeking right now. I held my gun firm, aching down my nerves. The sensation of pain on my shoulder began to fade away. Sonny was in his focused state, down to the edge. His shotgun relaxed, well mannered, and poised for combat. I bet we would be in a middle of something.

Sonny made a background check and remarked, "Ok, this basement's clear." We hurriedly went to the next area.

"So, what's the catch?" I asked.

"What? Oh, him right? That's your catch." Sonny exclaimed.

We proceed to the staircase then to the next floor. We suspected noise, the usual noises.

"You need to be ready." Sonny said, patting me on the shoulder and nodded. I nodded in answer and opened up the door. As we barge in, they began to fire at us. As the instincts kicked in, we quickly find cover. It was a rinse and repeat process. They want a fierce battle in an office block and a fierce battle they shall get. They were hiding in some of the small yet maze-like office cubicles, all white but soon to be red. Devoid of people, the place was perfect for a gunfight. I smirked with gratitude thanks to them. At least no casualties would impede in our way.

I took potshots while Sonny nonchalantly walked through the barrage like an unstoppable machine, killing gangsters here and there. He cleared the path for me, or maybe only for him. I don't know. Maybe it was his usual sudden burst of hidden temperament.

The Luckies dropped dead as we picked them out one by one, lying on their own puddle of blood. Several minutes had passed and they had given us a break. I stood up out of cover and looked at the place, now riddled with glass shards, cubicles with bullet holes, and papers scattered across the floor, some dirtied with blood. Sonny was standing there, confident or maybe happy inside, just hidden.

"C'mon, let's go", as if he was rushing to see Rey.

We were still searching for Rey, who was marked for death, but his blood marks vanished in thin air as soon as we were coming in hot. In our guess, he had to take up a floor along with his friends to protect him. We trek to the main office hallway adjacent to the cubicles we were in and took the elevator. By chance, we had found Rey's trail - a bloodied fingerprint pressed against the 3rd floor button. That said, that was where we would head. The elevator doors were closing in and so were we. I pressed the button with Rey's bloodied fingerprints and waited for the elevator to rise up as the doors began to close. Sonny simply stood there, lackadaisical and negligent by the fighting and the elevator music. After a few seconds, the elevator stopped at the designated floor and opened…

…and the gunfire resumed as it went on in a continuous loop. The Luckies greeted us again. It was the same layout as if we did not changed floors. This did not heed us though. We fought to the brim. I scored maybe two or three before I went to another process of reload and shoot. Sonny did somehow beat me again with four kills. Few enemies remained and thereafter, they suddenly ceased fire. It was odd but rather it was not because they had to surrender but they had brought Molotov cocktails along from our party.

One of them threw a Molotov and managed to torch what was near us. The flames zipped through and swiftly scorched the offices, engulfing anything within its reach. Within a few seconds, the outlook was bleak and fiery. They thought they could burn away my pain but they only made it angrier. The Luckies had outwitted and trapped us inside this blazing conflagration. Everything was been burned, a million mile reflection left scarred in my eyes. The room was hot, flames swept across like wildfire. Dark smoke smeared through us, slowly choking us with its deadly fumes. Sonny and I had to cover our nose and mouth, avoiding the noxious fumes. We had to find a way out from the sea of flames. We sauntered along through the intricate burning. Deadly smokes were around us, pressing our lives to the tip. We coughed up and had to look for an open spot or fresh air. After a grueling search, we made it and barely escaped the heat. We had to pause for a while and inhale as much air as possible before continuing Rey's trail. We ran out of possible leads. Rey's blood trail was gone and only our only hope was to find where the Luckies ran away. We recovered ourselves as soon as possible and hurriedly bolted through the hall. From there, no Luckies camped nor waited us there but we did see a Lucky 7 member speeding away towards the fire exit, going up.

"That fucking idiot didn't think we had seen him." Sonny said, still panting heavily. I could only smile and sighed since I do not have the energy, words, and air left needed to speak. All I need was Rey and that was it.

"Hurry we must follow them." Sonny commanded. I soon follow suit, jogging behind him, hurriedly climbing up the staircase. Inside the stairwell were echoes from the gangsters above us, seemingly panicking and running towards Rey's location. My guess was that they too did not know where Rey was but they should provide us the location. My task is to follow them if not killing them is a first option coming from Sonny's mouth.

As we ran up the staircase, I peeked up above and saw three of them finally reached a safe distance from us just three floors away.

"Look! I see them! They're just three floors above us," I shouted.

"Come on! Come on! We need to go faster." Sonny exclaimed as we proceed to step forth towards them.

We finally reached where they were at and as usual, they were readying their guns at us, propped against any protection they could find. Though, we did not arrived unprepared. As we also propped up at each opposite side of the office cubicle entrance, the remaining gangsters shifted from cover to cover trying to daze us. I took a quick look and saw four gangsters moving yet there was no sign of Rey anywhere. I gestured at Sonny to advance before any bullets started firing. Sonny went it first and I followed but immediately held aback by a sudden shot near my face, barely hitting me. It just hit an inch of the edge of the wall.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah. I am fine. They nearly got me. The bastards." I affirmed.

"Okay good. Now, help me finish this." He said.

I waited for a second to act back while Sonny did all the firing for me. I glanced for a second and saw him blind firing at them. I knew the opportunity was there so I had to advance in, hiding in the same opposite side as before.

"You take the left, I take the right." He commanded.

I nodded in response and immediately turned left. There I saw two men hiding between the cubicles. I dashed for the nearest cover and targeted the one nearest to me. I shoot back, emptying my clip onto them but all of my rounds missed. They responded with more gunfire as I quickly entered cover and reload. I shoot back again and managed to hit one this time, the farthest target, right in the forehead. The remaining gangster took a step back; covering beside a divider, behind him was a transparent and a tall window. I flanked him without notice and took cover on the right side of a cubicle near the divider. He looked back, pointing the gun to my previous location. Puzzled, I greeted him with two shots, hitting him square in the chest. He fell down, leaning against the glass window. By the time I killed my last enemy, Sonny had killed his.

"I know Rey is here. I can sense that he is here." Sonny said as he holstered his gun.

"But where?"

"Uh-uhm…maybe at the bathroom let's check." He responded with uncertainty.

I agree at Sonny's statement. I gestured to Sonny to go first and he replied with a smirk and a bit of cynicism to me. I soon followed suit.

We had arrived inside the toilets. "Where is he then?" I asked.

"One word: Knock." He lifted his legs up towards the stall door, kicking it with his full force.

The door slammed hard by the force of the kick and the lock broke in two places. There we found Rey, slumped on the toilet, tired and bloodied yet confident.

"Looks like you have found me holmes." He remarked wearing a smile on his face. I looked at Rey with suspicion and look back at Sonny, who looked back at me while wearing a suspicious look on Rey.

"What does that mean?" Sonny complied, looking back at Rey.

Rey just laughed and said, "Look behind you".

Sonny and I look back in rhythm and…

_Thwack!_


	9. Chapter 2 - Downfall for All of Us

**Chapter 2: Downfall for All of Us**

**Prologue:**

Vice City, the town on its peak of fortune and reputation. It was the year of 1997 – the days of near decadence, pop music, and waned fame and glory. Sunshine frisking among the vibrancy and diaspora had simmered away into the famous white sands and magnificent strings of popular hotels in the city. More or less, it was like purgatory. Despite all of what the city could offer to everyone as heaven, I could tell that there were still pieces of hell lying around, forever stood against the tests of time. Criminals, refugees, and drug lords were vying over control of Vice City. The stories were unaccountable for the power and respect but all I know clearly among the sea of lowlifes is that an infamous ragtag group of mercenaries or professional criminals called the Ace of Spades had terrorized the beach town for months…

…and that group was us. We were the ones causing the troubles and terror in the city but this time, we were working for someone, for something.

"What ya got there Mick?" Raphael asked as he approached me.

"Well I found these diamonds over at the docks," I replied, examining a diamond with a size of a pebble.

It was pristine, clear, and flawless. It was condensed money. It was a gift from a friend of mine. However, I could never fully explain the gift as part of our "legality". In this part of town, it was a finders' keepers rule. I had found it fair and square. However, I am not proud of it. I am been concerned by the dangers, but I let it slide in the interests of business. There were ten of these of the same size in the pouch. In this economy, it is worth $3 mil each and lo was it.

"Let me see that," said the curious Raphael, snatching the diamond from my hand examining it himself.

I could see it in his eyes, full of amazement and excitement as he thoroughly checked the rock.

"I couldn't believe it. . . ACTUAL DIAMONDS!" he proudly exaggerated. He laughed in delight, as if exclaiming victory against the world. All I did was been just smiling, watching him with mutual outlook. To be honest, I have the same feeling as that of Raphael's but I managed to keep my joy and enthusiasm well hidden.

"Yes, we're RICH!" he shouted.

"I could own a mansion, a fast car, girls, anything. Anything! My god, we can finally get out of this place and head to somewhere...San Andreas I don't know." He further added.

"I wouldn't be so sure 'bout that."

"Why's that?" he asked.

"I…kind...of...got it from my friend. I think he won't be asking that diamonds again but his friends will, I guess."

"Fuck that shit. It's ours now. Look at this! Condensed money!"

"I don't know. I mean, we have attracted so much attention here. First, from the Mafia, then the cops, the drug dealers then what's next? Diamond smugglers?"

"Don't be such a pansy. If you're concerned by this, maybe you should have not found this in the first place."

"Okay, okay, fine. Let's just split the diamonds then. Sonny, Frank, you and I will get a fair share. That way if someone asked us where the diamonds are, at least one of us would claim liability. "

"Then what are you waiting for? Split it!" Raphael replied. He tossed the small diamond to me. For a very fine diamond, transparent as fresh made glass, I successfully catch it on my hand, reflexively. I then put it to where it belonged. Together with Raphael, we tell my partners the news of my news.

* * *

><p>Here we are now, all tied up inside a helicopter hovering at tree level, on a clearing. In the woodlands far from the city. All terrains of different levels and trees of varying heights dotted around the place. I could also see ridges, which could be seen nearby. To be honest, I do not know this part of town and to answer why we were here, someone had knocked us out during our office stakeout. We were been caught off guard. Kudos to Rey for giving us another shitty situation. I could feel my head throbbing coming from that painful blow. I could not even balance nor stand up because of this. Apparently, I could still feel it. It was more of steel and dirty water. How disgusting. I was so close on my trail in finding it out. Goddammit. We should have anticipated this beforehand.<p>

I do not need contemplation right now. I was busy looking at a man who was also looking at us. He was Hispanic no less and his two guards armed with high-end gear vests and M4 carbine rifles. Beside me was a gagged up unconscious Sonny, his hands tied along the steel pole. I was been also tied up but not gagged. We were sitting on the mildly hot, vibrating steel deck, slumped, while my three new friends were sitting in their seats. It was their manner of treating their guests.

I had not seen this guy before but all I know by logic is that he is one of Rey's men. Judging from his 30-years-ish looks, Hispanic origins written all over him, and hell of a mustache on his face, he seemed ranked in a very important position higher than Rey. I mean look at how he dress, clean-cut and poised. With an expensive suit with cuff links to match, loafers, and a motherfucking tie, he was an ideal model for all of those who wanted to pretend their gangster. This guy was not a pretender, he looked so stern. Right now, he was showing us their way in handling business.

"Hey piece of shit!" He finally talked.

"Who are you talking to? Yourself? Coz, I don't see any piece of shit in here. Just you." I wittingly snapped back. Of course, we were in a helicopter. Everything should be loud.

"Ha-ha. Fucking funny." The man uttered at me flatly.

All the while, I only smirked, proud to what I had said. I managed to piss him off a little. For me? It was good, relaxes me.

"Do you know why you and your _compadre_ are here? Eh? Because I certainly do."

"Enlighten me."

"Well, Senor Matt, you and your friend, owed my business partner something."

"And who the fuck is your business partner?" I asked.

"You don't need to know about him. You'll gonna die anyways."

"Just get to the point you prick." I blunted, hoping that the man could shut his mouth already.

He leaned towards me and whispered through my ear, "Where are the diamonds?"

I cringed. He had hit me with a wham line. Looks like I had found the owners of the diamonds I got from Vice City a year ago, or so it seemed. However, were they the real owners of the diamond? No way would I give it up. I had to divert.

"I don't know what you're talking about man." I calmly affirmed myself to his question. He leaned back and said, "Fuck you. Do you think that you can lie to me?"

"WHERE ARE THE MOTHERFUCKING DIAMONDS?" he forcefully demanded, loud enough to drown the muffled whirring sound of air and helicopter rotors, which were oscillating into the compartment.

"I told you I don't know." I answered back, louder as I could.

"Do you think my business partner is an idiot huh? _Hijo de puta_!"

"Surprising isn't it? Tell your boss to go fuck himself."

"You're a man with nothing to lose eh, Senor Matt? Maybe I should have kill you myself but frankly, I wouldn't do that. You're the one who knew the diamonds after all. My business partner doesn't want a valuable asset to go to waste."

"Am I that important? You should kill me here then. Right now."

"Don't play a fucking game now _ese_. I know where your remaining friends are."

"What the? How long have you been following us?"

"For a year. Maybe a week or two, far longer than a year I guess. We're just waiting for the right time," he said, smiling at me.

"Are you Hector right?"

"Who the fuck is Hector? Are you trying to make a fun out of me just because I'm Mexican?"

"What? No! Goddammit, scratch that."

Just then, he signaled his guards to untie me. They approached me and one of them cut the rope tying me from the pole. They started to lift me up. In my mind, I wanted to struggle but seeing the situation I delved into right now, might as well not. I kept my cool as usual and just followed myself to where they would take me. We stopped by the door of the helicopter, stooped, as a guard tries to reach the door. The guard slid the door open, giving a sudden blast of cold air and the clear sound of the roaring rotors inside. I could not see much of the view outside since the force of the wind heading towards our direction was intense. The guards turned me around and spun me at the direction of the mysterious man. I could finally open my eyes and see clearly, clear enough to see him retrieving something out of his pocket.

It was a phone, which he then put into my pocket of my jeans, instructing me, "If you destroy or lost this phone, we'll make sure your friend stays being out that way. If you don't give me the diamonds back within three weeks, well, let's just say you won't live long, including your families, friends, relatives, or your friend here. We'll be watching you. Now, goodbye Senor Matt."

It was the sign of a downfall for all of us, literally for me, as the guards threw me out of the helicopter. I dropped down rearward, fast, onto the clearing.

_THUD!_

The force was painful, aching my back far more excruciating than a whiplash. I could hear my spine crack but as I slowly got up uncomfortably and checked, I was pretty much okay. They had shut the door as the chopper ascended slowly. It then hastily took off after a while, along with Sonny, now their hostage, in it.

I hope no harm would befall for Sonny. If they did, I would let the bastards pay. All I need to do now so far was to follow that man's order. Should I retrieve the diamonds or not? Whom is this man referring to as his business partner? These are my questions marked inside my head. I still have my share of the diamonds but my friends have not anymore. Who knew where they were right now? It could be somewhere here I guess. I need to find them fast or Sonny would be the one to pay the price.

Now, I am alone in this quaint serenity. The soft tall grass however cushioned my fall so the pain was not severe. I dusted myself off and picked up where I left. It was a very bright day. I could feel the sunlight pouring through me. Cloudless blue sky sped past across. Around were foliage and diverse species of vegetation. Faint outlines of ridges and valleys composed the background. There were also deer hopping along the clearing and into the shroud of forestry. I was in the middle of nowhere and my only way to get out in the sticks was to follow the helicopter's path.

I started to stroll down and follow the imaginary trail. All I could see here were shades of green and a little bit of brown. The ambiance was mellow. The birds chirping, the wind producing an harmonious melody of breeze, fresh air, and the swaying of verdure, the crunching of leaves and frosty grass underfoot, and tranquility were all the music that I need right now. I was at my peace of mind. In a few minutes of walking tirelessly, I covered at least quarter of a kilometer. It did finally paid off though as I found a mud trail. I knew this path would lead me to civilization. However, the trail just sat there as if no one had used it for a long time, no one was zipping past this path or me, or noise emanating from off-roads and campers, and neither asphalt roads nor vehicles were been sighted so far. With no choice, I started to follow the trail.

Time slipped by after tracking the trail to where it leads me, I had finally found civilization. It was a rural gasoline station, which was right next to a highway. The barrage of noises coming from the passing vehicles, mostly tractors, farm vehicles, and motor-homes bellowed over the busy lanes. I felt like society left me for a bit. It was an unusual experience by not having any contacts from anyone. It was rare enough to know that no one had attacked nor tried to kill me here. I am in a foreign land in a familiar place and I need to know this location from anyone here in this station. I sauntered around for a bit and there I saw a mechanic, a fat guy wearing an overall garb and a green trucker hat. He was just loitering outside the small diner. He was been pre-occupied in smoking his Redwood cigarette. I did not mind what he was doing. I wanted to know where I am. I walked towards him, readying my questions asked to.

"Uh excuse me mister, do you know where I am?" I asked.

"This is Whetstone my friend. Are ya lost?" He said, wearing a southerner's accent.

"I kinda am. Do you know where the nearest town around here is?" I replied.

"Angel Pines is just 10 miles from here friend." He said, pointing at the highway and moving his hand in his observation to his right in a forward manner as if to say he was giving me directions. "Just follow the highway and y'all get there." He added.

"How far is Los Santos from here?" I asked.

"Boy, from where ya stand, y'all take an hour to get ya to Los Santos." He remarked, pointing his hand at the highway, in an opposite direction, to his left.

"Is there a taxi I could hail with?"

He looked at me and laughed. He said, "There's no taxi here boy. This is a national highway. Do ya think a taxi coming from the city go 'round here?"

"Ah well. Never mind brother. Thanks for the information by the way." I expressively thanked him in gratitude as I started to walk away from here.

"Wait!" he remarked.

I turned to his attention and responded, "What is it?"

"I could give ya a ride to Angel Pine. I can't take ya to the city but ya could stay in a motel there if ya want to." He offered.

"Thanks man. I really don't know where I am right now at least I could find some place to stay." I replied and accepted his offer.

He threw his cigarette away and said to me, pointing to his truck, "Let's go, my pick-up truck is just parked right there."

"Okay." I said as we walked towards his truck.

It was a small walk. The truck was been parked, right there. His pick-up truck was a Sadler, with car parts and tools lying on the back. I could tell from the look of the truck that it suffered much work, damage, and mileage. Despite that, it was still serviceable. I looked in amazement as the car door opened functionally, despite the patches done. He opened it and got in as I waited for the passenger door to get unlocked. He sat by the driver's seat and reached for the lock from the other side. There was a click and as I pulled the handle, the door opened ajar. I sat in and closed it as he was trying to start the engine. The first time he twisted the keys, it was unsuccessful. He tried it again. He twisted it for the second still would not start.

"C'mon you heap of junk. Work." He mumbled low as he twisted the key for the third time.

This time it worked. The engine coughed up and we were ready to go. The mechanic turned its wheel back and reversed. He adjusted the truck before going to the open road. From there, we jaunted away to the direction towards Angel Pine.


	10. Ch 2, Act 1 - Feud for a Losing Game

**Act 1: Feud for a Losing Game**

For a very long highway, it sure garnered a lot of traffic. After all, one of the ways to enjoy a vacation here is to go cross-country and explore the uncharted wilderness, hoping you could survive a game of unexpected predicaments and precarious journeys. People here were temporarily escaping the hustle and bustle of the city streets. Motor homes, camper vans, sedans, family wagons, SUVs, farm folk cars, harvesters, everything I normally despise were here. They were taunting me with their continuous rhythm of horns and loud engine noises. The cacophony of annoyance was unbearable. All I could think of is to bail out of this car and head back to where I was been dropped off.

I just sat here quietly and hoped that they would go away, somehow. We were going to Angel Pine, somewhere bound, a supposed town not far from here. We were still on the road, doing a decent speed in this outflow. All I could see were tall trees contentedly overlooking the side of the highway and the rolling hills, zipping past through them with shadow and cloak.

This mechanic had offered me a ride going to the town, maybe dropping me to a motel or something. I would like to thank him for this but I wanted to know his name first.

"What's your name…uh, friend?" I questioned.

"My name's Butch," He replied.

"Why y'er here by the way? When y'er just city folk, ya should've stayed city folk." He asked, wondering as to why I am here in the countryside.

"Huh? Butch right?" I reaffirmed.

" ." He verified, still looking at the road with his hands on the wheel.

"Well Butch, I had little problems with my…friends. You see, they're survivalists…and I can't stand how they live in the woods…erm…uh, so I abandoned them and tried to get out of here…then I kinda got lost on my way and look at me now." I explained.

"Uhh…okay friend. Why there's blood on y'er shoulder? Hit a branch on y'er way here?" He skeptically asked.

"Ye-yeah. I slipped at a branch by accident and grazed myself. Don't worry it's just a flesh wound." I quickly clarified.

"Okay friend. It's kinda unusual here that someone like you got out of the woods alone…and alive," He said.

He added, "I mean…I heard that a lot of weird things were happ'ning 'round here. Ghost cars, Bigfoot, the chupathingy or whatever." he stated.

"That's great...great…so, Whetstone huh? What county is this?"

"Flint County friend."

"This is quite of a county. I never heard this one before. Forest, grasslands, hills, more forest…"

"Well, y'all just city folk." He interruptedly reasoned.

"…yea-…well, of course I am a city folk…I never had any experience going around outside Los Santos…also I'm kinda new here." I reasoned back.

"Where from ya then?" he asked.

"Liberty City." I proudly claimed.

"Liberty City? I never heard that town before."

"Probably because you're a farm folk."

"Huh. Good one. Well, tell me more about this…this city."

"You don't need to know Liberty that much. That city was goddamn awful. The reason I stayed here in San Andreas is because I got sick living in Liberty so might as well live in your alternatives."

"That's great. Glad you moved from the city and into here. I mean, the countryside here is lovely. You could smell the fresh air, the game, fishing; horse racing down the valley...This here is the true American way of life. Unlike you city folks."

"Technically, I'm not moving here alright? And yeah sure, okay Butch. Might as well be taking down notes with the activities…if I'm down to that."

"You haven't seen much around here boy. You should explore the great outdoors."

"Uhm...yeah. Sure. Thanks."

We drove past a bridge, the Whetstone Bridge to be exact according to the sign sticking by the side. Fortunately, the noises lessened as we drove on it. As I look back to the window in relief, I saw a humongous rocky mountain towering over the backdrop. It was like the natural Tower of Babel as if its peak had finally touch heaven. As we drew near, the bigger the mountain had become. It was breathtaking. It was three times taller than the Bank Tower. It was a Goliath of its size, terrorizing anyone below with its sheer grandeur and magnificence. It had also eclipsed the sun with its splendor. There was neither bright sunshine nor broad daylight. Its shadow had soaked us with wintry delight as trees swayed in beat. I could finally see more details of the mountain as we were closing in Angel Pine. What I could see from here was seemingly bleak land filled with rocks and boulders ready to roll down underfoot, dispersal of pine trees scattered among the jagged rocks and dry trails laying off the beaten path that snaked the skin of the barren mountain. Below its foot was Angel Pine, a small town. The place where I would be staying.

Butch drove to the exit and past towards the trailer park, entering the town. He took me on a tour, showing me the places of interest like the gun shop, Cluckin' Bell and of course, the motel which where I would be staying. From the looks of it, I could say that this is a sleepy town. It had few residents living here for a very long time and not much landmarks were popping out aside from the mountain and the occasional general needs. Out at the towns bareback were forests and a logging company. In addition, the town had the complete necessities, like a town clinic and a deputy's office. This seemed that I would be staying in this town for quite a while.

We finished our little joyride and arrived by the motel. Butch halted the car and stopped by the driveway with its engine still running. Then I got out, looking the town around, mostly at the glorious mountain towering beside this sleepy town.

"This sure is a nice place Butch." I turned my head back, looking at Butch.

"Well yes it is. This yer place erm...uh...what's your name friend?"

"Matt. My name's Matt."

"Okay Matt. It was nice knowing you. This is all I can do for you though."

I patted the roof of the car by the passenger's side. "Don't sweat it Butch. Thanks for the lift by the way."

"Don't mention it. See ya friend." He said.

Within a second, he swiftly accelerated through the quiet streets as I looked. In just a few seconds, he was now out of my sight. It was a sign that I should start to check-in in the motel.

I looked at the motel for a jiff and went in. Inside, there were quite a few people lurking around the lobby. There was a man seating on the lobby couch reading a newspaper and two guys talking near the door. One was the security guard. That was all I could see here. By the desk was no one, the receptionist had gone elsewhere. I rang the waiting bell a few times and waited, leaning at the counter. While I was waiting for the receptionist to come by, I looked around. I could guarantee that the lobby is quite decent for its size. Its extent is that of a common house living room. There were the guys I mentioned hanging around the place, a security guard, and a couch facing a small flat TV. There was also a ceiling fan above us, centered, soundlessly moving against the chatters of men and the racket coming from the TV. The lobby was fitted with shiny red tiles at waist height then a wall covered with white paint strewn across the rest. From where I stand, there is a door by the lower left of the room. The couch and the TV are been located by the far lower right, occupying the space of it and near the entrance of the room hallway. The reception desk is located facing the door, in other terms, upper left and the room hallway is at the upper right. There was a door between the desk and the hallway; I presume that is the employee's room.

Within minutes of observation, the receptionist had finally arrived. He came from that room or door between the desk and the hallway. I turned around as he went through the desk.

I immediately asked, "Do you have any rooms available?"

"Well yes sir." He replied crisply.

"Uhm…what offers do you have around here."

"Just a sec, sir." He retrieved something below the counter. He got up, looked at me, and gave a laminated menu. "Here it is sir."

I looked at their prices of the rooms, deciding where I should pick. "Huh, I think…uhm…this one I guess?"

I took back my word. "No, no, no…not this one. Scratch that." I carefully inspected all the prices that I could afford to pay.

I finally decided. "Here it is. This 4-day, 4-night room and bed."

"Okay sir." He complied.

He collected the motel's log by the desk and wrote my selection. He filled up any required information needed in the book and quickly handed it to me along with the pen he used, which required my name and mark. I took the pen and the logbook and hastily wrote my signature.

He retrieved the logbook from me and placed it below the counter. He turned around getting a room key from the boxes that was sticking out behind him and said, "Now sir, and come with me".

"Okay." I said as he started to get out of the reception and walked towards the hallway. I soon followed.

We walked into the hallway. It was a little bit dim as the lights were been positioned below knee-height. It was like a corridor going to a cinema. Low-lighted and a mood changer. All I could see were doors sticking at its two walls close yet far from each other. The doors were coated red and it looked like it was made of birch or redwood. The hallway was void of life, just the receptionist and me. As we strolled much of the hallway, all I could hear was our footsteps battering the wooden floor, dressed in red carpet. The noise at the lobby was unheard of as we walked half of the hallway.

We had reached the end of this very long hallway and turned left at another long hallway. It started to freak me out a little since the corridor was far too quiet and the receptionist would not budge to talk a bit or look at me for just a second. Finally, we had reached our destination. It was room 115.

"Here it is sir. Room keys." He handed me the keys.

"Okay thanks." I responded as I acquired the keys from him.

"If there's any problem. Just head to the desk or call us inside." He said.

I nodded at him to know that I understand.

He nodded me back. "Okay sir."

He quickly walked away.

In my mind readying to lie down on a bed after a hard day, I impatiently jammed the key into the doorknob. It took around three turns before I could finally hear the unlocking click. I opened the door fast and calmly went in. I turned on the lights as I promptly closed the door and started to walk straight as the lights started flickering.

The room was now been fully illuminated as I walk slowly across. There I saw the bed, resting by the right side of the room. I turned myself at the direction of it and started to position myself lying down as I was getting near. I landed on the soft belly of the bed and sighed in comfort.

I shall now rest for the night. Now, I kept thinking about that mysterious guy and Sonny, who was still with them, hopefully alive. The diamonds are now my priority. I had to find Raphael and Frank. Maybe they are here too. I know Frank is addicted to gambling so in my thought, he is at Las Venturas, at present. He should spend his hard-earned cash with some blackjack, craps, and hookers there. Raphael, meanwhile, well this is hard for me to guess, maybe in Europe or Detroit, who knows. I had to find them fast and get the diamonds from them, if they have it. Sonny's share is presumably had it in him or at his house, tucked up safe and warm. My share of the split on the other hand is at my house, which was been burned by the Luckies a day ago and hopefully still intact from to where I hid it.

I could not contact them either since that Mexican idiot had replaced my phone. However, my wallet is still here so that is a bit of good news, I think. I had to plan through. Now, I had to rest, preparing my feud for a losing game up and coming.


	11. Ch 2, Act 2 - A Long Way to Fall

**Act 2: A Long Way to Fall**

Here I am again, all alone and unarmed. Still the same. This is a bit a running theme coming from me. Kind of predictable.

At present, I have no gun to defend myself with. Moreover, I have no contact in this town and this stupid phone. I am practically clueless and I am stuck, in this motel in particular. However, I had planned what I should do tomorrow though. Even then, I am still pretty stuck. Just great.

I had used up a day's worth of time resting and sleeping and at this moment, it was the middle of the night. I had woken up prior the nightfall and managed to eat at their buffet area. Currently, I am done with that and I am at my room again. Well, it was a bit small but it makes you feel at ease. The bed at the upper right of the room, the TV hung up by the wall facing the bed parallel and the bathroom just right next to the room entrance, it was the closest amenities as I could get here. Much like my house but better. This is fine. Tonight, I am a bit full. To expend this time since I am sleepless as fuck, I would detail my plans for myself tomorrow.

Let's see…

Tomorrow, I should go to the gun shop, located a block away from here. Then, buy a gun there by morning or possibly afternoon. Next, buy new set of clothes. After that, contact Frank or Raphael by payphone. No way would I contact them by phone. That Mexican fella had have bugged this phone or something. I also doubt he knew my location. Maybe this phone had a tracker but I do not mind that and if he did, I should play along.

I was walking back and forth inside the room, still thinking out more plans to start out my day tomorrow.

"What else?" I thought, still walking mindlessly.

Suddenly, the phone rang. Someone called and I already knew who it was. I rapidly picked it up from my pocket and answered it.

"Ah Senor Matt! How are you doing it eh?" The Mexican greeted.

"You know how it is…fucking asshole! What do expect 'how am I doing' huh? Going for a joyride or out for camping?" I sardonically answered.

"I don't know…" He replied, "Maybe staying in a motel I guess." He added.

I knew he had put a tracker in this phone. I staggered myself fast, looking outside, peeking by the room window.

Somehow, all I could see outside was darkness, enveloping the forest and the town ominously. The silhouette of the trees made an impression with underlying spookiness and mystery. Out of the eerily empty street was no one. Really. No cars or people were strolling by, just the street, and its lights, fearlessly standing there with firm and static. However, I felt that there was someone watching me from afar and I know it was not the ghosts.

"Are your boys following me?" I said, still looking out of the window.

"Nope. I am just guessing here amigo." He instantly denied.

I turned around and went to sit on the bed as I am still using the phone, "You fucking liar. I know you are using a tracking device. No way had you let go of me that easily."

"Suit yourself mi amigo. Anyway, your hunt for the diamonds starts now. Remember, three weeks."

"I know that okay! Now where's Sonny?"

"Oh he's somewhere safe. Don't worry; we'll take care of Sonny for you." He said, quietly grinning.

"Don't pull some strings on me here you fucking piece of shit. I will get the diamonds for you just please after that, leave us the fuck alone okay?"

"Eh, whatever you say Matt. And please, call me Victor."

"Victor. What irony." I laughed.

"Let's see who gets the last laugh eh? Goodbye." He then immediately called out.

That was an interesting call from Victor. I know what I should be doing and I do not want anyone to repeat it. I am not that stupid.

Anyway, there was nothing to add any more plans so might as well be it. I slowly put the phone back into my pocket and started to lie down on the bed. I grabbed the remote control behind my back and turned on the TV. The first thing I noticed when I turned on the TV was a hunting channel. It was a documentary. It was a deer hunting show, located in the woods somewhere in the U.S. of A. The journalist was of Southern type fellow. Big, wearing a plaid t-shirt, cargo pants to match and very hairy. He was like a common biker disguising as a truck driver. I'm not stereotyping here. The show was not of my taste so I changed to a different channel. The following one was a lifestyle channel. Then again, change. The next one was sports. Now, this is my kind. It was basketball after all and everyone loves basketball. I stayed for this channel, maybe enjoying watching this game or maybe I would fall asleep.

* * *

><p>It was morning and in some way, I had fallen asleep during the night. I woke up groggily and lethargically looked around, still lying down. The TV's still on. The channel was still sports but it was another game – hockey. The rays of the sun pilfered through the room window, looking all cheery with its radiance reciprocally welcoming my smugness. It had brightened the room, overpowering the room lighting that was dispelling the darkness of my room last night. I looked at the clock beside the TV to check for the time. It was 12:34 PM briefly, now 12:35 as the long arm reached. I got up dozily and stretched myself up. I proceed to head to the bathroom to freshen up.<p>

After I freshen myself up inside the bathroom, I turned off the TV and the lights. I got out of my room, locked it, and gave the keys to the receptionist for safety. I left the motel and went to start my plans. As I step foot of the outside world, the daylight had already given me a bright smile and a warm hug. I could feel the day's warmth and importance. Now that it had kick-started my energy a little, it was my time to go to the gun shop. The first of my plans.

I was planning to sprint towards the shop but soon as I know the consequences, I walked instead. Besides, it was just near me, a block away. The town was still in its usual state. There were occasional farm trucks and city vehicles drove by though. Alongside, a few people were strolling, doing their own business. Birds were chirping, flying across the Angel Pine vista. The trees howling against the country cold breeze. It was a seemingly normal day. It delighted me at least. Maybe I should permanently settle here, I thought to myself. I mean it was more relaxing than the city, and no one would find and kill me here, I think. The difference is obvious and I began to like it.

Few minutes had come up I reached the gun shop. Ammu-Nation is the name of the store. I entered the shop and I was been immediately welcomed by the loud PSA raucously blaring in the area. The strong smell of gunpowder and American patriotism surrounding the store was more of a giveaway to those who really need to prove their manliness. The facade was been covered with the display of weapons that could slaver an exotic gun nut's mouth. There were vast arrays of sub-machine guns, rifles, pistols, projectiles, and even illegal firearms hanging on the walls. Bullets of different sizes and measurements were here too. This shop is complete with everything. It was tempting but I would rather buy the right kind for the right job. They were cool and all but, they were impractical anyways. I would settle to being useful and convenient.

"Hello. Welcome to Ammu-Nation". The shopkeeper responded to me in a low tone.

As I finished roaming around, carefully looking at the models displayed, I head to the counter where the shopkeeper was at. He was wearing a beige wife-beater and military pants. Military haircut and a midlife crisis-age mustache no doubt. He was just standing there looking at me austerely. I asked the shopkeeper, "Uh, hey. Do you have a pistol that's really cheap and affordable?"

"You want a Saturday Night Special?" he quipped flatly.

I simply laughed quietly and said, "No. Not that. Uhm…how about a M1911?"

He boringly replied, "Why yes we do have those. You want to check it?"

"Yeah, sure why not." I snappily answered.

He turned around and walked towards the pistol rack, located at his right side. He opened the glass door and grabbed the pistol I wanted to check. He came back and said, "Here it is, sir."

He handed the pistol, all-new and polished, to me. I safely checked the magazine barrel and cocked the gun, to make sure it was duly new and ready to use. As I examined it more, the shopkeeper detailed me with information about the pistol, which I knew about. He detailed, "That's a Browning Semi-Automatic Pistol sir. It weighs 2.44 lb and 8.25 in length. It holds seven rounds and was been used all around the wars including the USA-Australian War. It works well in crowded areas."

I just examined the weapon silently while listening to his details. Now that I finished the gun inspection, it was my time to buy it. "Okay. I'll have this gun." I said.

"Wise choice, choice. That'll be 300 dollars."

"Can you accept credit card?" I inquired.

"Yes we do." He said.

I took my wallet from my back pocket and frisked it, finding my credit card. After I have found it, I handed it to the shopkeeper to take care of the rest. "Oh, an ammo pouch, 34 rounds of ACP and a holster too." I added.

He nodded to me in response and quietly put my card on the counter. He walked away to get my order, watching him as he retrieved them. Couple of minutes, there he was again, back with my items all at the counter ready to be checked out. He took out the credit card machine and swiped my card within it. He gave me the machine to enter my PIN subsequently. I entered my PIN while he turned his head and shifted his eyes away from it. After I am finished with that, he waited for the machine to process the receipt, which he handed it to me to affix my signature. I grabbed the pen right next to my items and wrote my signature. He handed my credit card back, which I put it back to where it belong. All went well, I can take my items like a proud consumer I am.

I geared up after my items have checked out. The shopkeeper expressed thanks to me, flatly. "Have a good day sir."

I nodded in response as I calmly sauntered out of the shop.

I am back to society again, with the same ambiance and all. I hope the residents of Angel Pine would turn a blind eye from my new looks. I am suited up and ready for anything fate would give me. I got my favorite pistol, the M1911, gun holsters, and ammo pouches bought. With these all around me, it was hard not to look at me. Maybe, I would reason out that I am a bodyguard or an off-duty cop. It would work. Anyway, back to my next plan: buy some set of clothes. I need to find a clothing shop here, hoping that their threads are not shabby or tasteless. I quietly totter along where the General Store might be. I walked away from the gun shop and turned left among some buildings adjacent. There I saw a clothing shop, named 'Billy Bob & Sons Co.'. Sounds like a country shop to me. I peculiarly walk towards the shop, just to prove myself. Within the distance, I knew I was right again. Indeed, it was a country shop. It sells great clothes in affordable prices. It denoted my interest. I swiftly paced myself into the shop.

The store atmosphere is so country-like, like those you have seen in the movies. There was a deer's head mounted above the counter, knick-knacks of southern origin drooping by the walls, and of course, their merchandise standing around the area, positioned in aisle. I soon ought to check them. They were quite decent and not too scruffy. However, it was too country. Loud t-shirts, farmer overalls, plaid shirts, Confederate-themed garments, tartans, hunter's vests, Barbour jackets, overalls, game hats, trucker hats, cowboy boots, cowboy vests, wooden sandals, slippers, cowboy boots, cowboy hats…anything country. They were all over the place. However, there were actual city clothes by the bargain bin. Might be donated or recycled I do not know. Without a second thought, I went for the bin. I expect a very good piece of attire would pop out from it so I could exit this place with glee. A forage time has elapsed, I found a checkered motif t-shirt and washed out jeans, all creased. I picked them up and went to the dressing room. Once I finished trying out the size, which is fit for me by the way, I walked towards the counter in a fast-paced manner and bought these. The shopkeeper collected the items that I dropped on the counter and counted the price. I tendered it with cash as soon as it was finished.

"Can I change in your dressing room?" I civilly asked.

"Suit yourself." The young man uncaringly replied.

"Thanks." I expressed gratitude.

I hurriedly went to the dressing room and change.

Few minutes had passed; I am now a new man. It was perfectly apt for me. It was not too loud and not too out-of-style either. I went back to the counter and asked the shopkeeper for some bag for my old clothes. He gave me the bag in riposte and I went back to the dressing room to pick-up my stuff. I walked away from the store as I finished rounding up my old clothes. I stood by the entrance of the clothing shop and wondered what was next on my agenda.

That's right. I need to call Raphael or Frank for their whereabouts. I need to find a payphone fast.

I had found a payphone, not far from the store. I approached it straightaway and squandered some quarters to use it. First, I need to call Raphael. I still remembered his number and I am confident enough that he did not change it by this time. I dialed it and surprisingly, it rang. I could hear a phone picking up.

"Hello?" That familiar voice responded.

"He-hey! Raphe. It's Matt." I retorted.

"Matt Franklin. Why on earth are you calling me?"

"Listen. Raphe. Sonny's taken hostage by this Mex-"

He interjected, "What? Sonny's kidnapped again?"

"What the fuck dude. When's the last time he was kidnapped? I know it's was this stint of ours in Liberty." He furthered.

"Y-yes. I know. I know that. Look, it was different from Liberty okay. Sure, it was the Mafia but this is different. It's that diamonds from Vice."

"The fucking ice?"

"Yes. I need to get your share of those diamonds Raphe. Sonny's life depends on it."

"What are you talking about? We found it in Vice City fair and square. Tell them to fuck off."

"What about Sonny huh? Do you still care for him?"

"Y-Yeah I still care for him but, face it Matt, all of us had spent the diamonds."

"Well Sonny and I haven't."

"But I did, here."

"Where 'here'? Where are you?"

"I'm at San Fierro. Are you still there in Los Santos?"

"Uhm, nope. I'm at this town called Angel Pine."

"Angel Pine? That boorish little old town? That's close from here Matt. I'll just drive from there, it won't be that long. We'll talk more about the diamonds of ours later. I have to think about this first."

"Okay."

"Where are you staying?"

"At this motel here. It's the only motel here Raphe."

"Huh, okay. I'll call you when I get there."

"You can't."

"Huh? Why?"

"This Mexican guy, Victor, had switched my phone. Now I'm using his phone and I'm having doubts whether he had bugged this or not."

"Ah shit Matt. Really? You're always the trouble magnet in our team."

"Fuck you man. You give us a lot of problems too. Remember that robbery in Vice?"

"No-no-no-no! Let's not talk about that, okay." He said, sighing.

"Yeah I heard you."

"Good."

"Hey Raphe, do you know where Frank is?"

"Frank Morgan or Frank Cazzavano?"

"Our Frank."

"Oh Caz-…ahh. Nah. I don't know where Frankie is. Last time he called me, he said that he was at Venturas. Four Dragons or shit."

"I see-"

"…and don't bother to call his number. It's non-operational now. He won't call back from it. I think he's changing numbers or something."

"Huh, must've been the gambling spree."

"Must've , Matt. Have to go. Meet you there."

"Yeah sure."

"Good. Look after yourself man."

"Thanks Raphe."

I put down my side of the phone afterwards. That was a path opening up at least. I had Raphael's contact and he is picking me up. All I need to know next is Frank's location. I should start with Raphe first, that way we could know Frank's accurate position in Venturas. However, he did say Four Dragons. That was a start perhaps. Right, I need to prepare for myself in meeting Raphe again. Besides, it was not a long way to fall into this problem. I am beginning to sense another cycle here. Here we go again.

My plans have sorted out and things went in accordance. I went back to the motel to prepare.


End file.
